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TRP: Hansel and Mishka (Cuff)
Setting Outside Mishka’s estate, a couple days after the party’s return from Whitehelm -- the afternoon following Larkin and Goro’s conversation with Mishka. The sky is slightly dark with gathering storm clouds. Hansel is armed this time. The Clockwork Trident and his shield are on his back, and his hand axes are on his belt, and the wound that kept him away from the dwarven ruins is visible as a pink smear across his shoulder and chest under a dirty, rumpled bandage. He’s been walking for a long time. He hasn’t been sleeping; he hasn’t been drinking, either, which is a surprise to him. When he reaches the gate, he draws one of his axes, flips it in his hand, and smashes the handle against the metal. The sound echoes across the grounds. Player 1: A few minutes stretch on. Then, with a flicker, Mishka appears on the other side of the gate, about twenty feet back. He wraps his arms around himself silently. It's been getting colder. He is plainly dressed and his hair is loose. His eyes are narrow. It looks like he hasn't been sleeping, either. He wets his lips, but for once, doesn't say anything. Player 2: Hansel stares at him for a while, his jaw tight. He didn't expect Mishka to grace him with his own presence right away -- if at all. He didn't expect him to not look smug. After a moment he slips his axe back into his belt. His voice is quiet. "What the fuck, Mishka?" Player 1: There are a lot of lies on his tongue. It would be easy, he realizes, to just say one. To needle Hansel. He's armed. He could resolve this now. If he could just... fucking get Hansel to attack him... (Why does he want it that way? Why does he want Hansel to hurt him? Why would Hansel ever hurt him?) Instead, he sits down and folds his legs. "So," he says. "The things Kheman said. That he... hid, and you killed the others, and... Those were true." Player 2: Hansel's voice breaks. "Kheman's alive?" Player 1: "He's at the Sanctuary of Eldath a few days away. He's well. I told his daughter. Maybe she'll go to him, maybe she won't." I thought about telling you Kheman was alive, but I was afraid you might eat him. That's what Mishka could say right now. What the fuck is wrong with me? he thinks. Player 2: The Sanctuary of Eldath. He's with Luci. Conflicting thoughts -- then he's fine and does she know? Does Larkin know? He hasn't seen her since the ruins. He hasn't said a word, hasn't known what to say since he heard her name, but fucking Mishka is apparently just handing out information to whoever fucking asks. Fucking Goro, of all people. He doesn't know what games Mishka's playing anymore and he's too tired to try to figure them out. It's too complicated. He sits down with the gate between them, automatically pulling the trident from his back and laying it across his lap. He feels empty. "It'd be easier if you just fucking killed me, you know." Player 1: The words all stick in Mishka's throat. Fuck, it would. It's been ripping him up inside for months. Why play with his food for months? If the goal is to provoke Hansel into attacking him so he can kill Hansel, why not just attack Hansel first? Why rip him apart? Why torture him? It ought to please him. He's won. "Do you have another vial of that... truth serum?" Mishka says. Player 2: Hansel snorts and it turns into a couple of borderline-hysterical laughs. He drops his head into one hand, shoulders still shaking after he's gone quiet. "Yeah, you know, I fucking do." He looks back up and shrugs, smiling helplessly. "We had a date, remember?" Player 1: Mishka reaches up. He takes the mask off his face, here, in public. In the empty field around them. He sets it aside. He holds out his hand for Hansel to toss the vial to him. Player 2: Hansel shakes his head, though his expression seems to soften a little when Mishka takes off the mask. "Say whatever you want." Player 1: Fuck, it's harder like this. Would be easier with the vial. “I told you a story,” Mishka says. “A…. long time ago. About something that happened to me when I was younger. Almost thirty years ago. I broke into a dragon’s hoard…” The cuff has been feeling heavier, lately. He doesn’t know what to do with it. “I stole a trinket,” he says. “From the dragon’s hoard. And it caught me, and it dangled me above its mouth, and I talked it out of eating me. And it gave me this. This—fucking slave cuff.” He hates it with every ounce of his being. Every part of him hates the fact he’s under someone else’s power. It was fucking stupid, marrying Hansel. Someone else already owned him. “The other half is a ring on a ridge on the dragon's back. A cursed magic item. He can tell me to do whatever he pleases, and because of this fucking thing, I have to obey,” Mishka says. “He thought it was a hilarious punishment. And I left. I ran away, as far as I could go. Took to the seas, to anywhere else, to get away from it. And I was never able to get it off.” “I told you,” Mishka says. “All of that. And you comforted me, because of course you did, because you cared about me. But I left parts out, because I knew what you’d think of me. Fucking weak and stupid. I told you the dragon never commanded me to do anything. I told you it ignored me, because it thought I was weak, like an ant. That was a lie." Player 2: "If you want me to believe everything you've done to me is because some fucking --" he laughs again -- "some fucking dragon told you to do it, I don't." Player 1: Mishka shakes his head. "No," Mishka says. "Fuck, no. I take full responsibility for that. Hansel, I'm sorry. You ought to go far away from me, and I never should've spoken to you when I realized you were alive. I'm not here to pretend it's... someone else's fault." Player 2: Hansel stares at him for a while, not knowing what to say. After a moment, he reaches into his bag and fishes out the little bottle of truth serum. He knocks back half of it, crams the cork back in, and throws it through the bars. "Fuck you. Tell me about the fucking dragon, then." Player 1: Mishka picks it out of the grass. He takes it. Drinks it. He's trying not to think. "I had a man with me," Mishka says. "Named Aleksei. And the dragon told me to kill him, because he thought it was funny." Player 2: Hansel is quiet for a beat. "That's not fucking funny." Player 1: "Really? Because the dragon thought it was hilarious." And there's that same terror gripping him again, the realization he's not over this even a little, and he doesn't know what to do about it. "And ten years later, the dragon called me back, and it asked me who I loved most," Mishka says. "And I said my sister, Asenka. And I killed her for the dragon, too, when he told me to. And ten years later, it called me back, and it asked me who I loved most, and I told it no one, because I didn't have anyone else then. And it left me alone." And Mishka doesn't know what to fucking do, because-- Because it's been almost ten years again. The time's due. And Mishka knows, deep in his gut, soon the dragon's going to call him back, and soon the dragon's going to ask him that same fucking question again. He thought he was out of this, thought it was done, thought he'd learned not to get attached to people, but he was wrong, because Hansel-- This would be so much fucking easier if he could make himself hate Hansel. Or if he could get Ripley on his side and get her to send someone to slay the dragon. Something, anything. Ten thousand plans that aren't working out. "Hans, I don't know what the fuck to do," Mishka says. And his voice breaks. Player 2: Hansel thinks about saying I didn't know you had sister. It's his gut reaction but doesn't seem appropriate. He can't imagine Mishka with a sibling -- with someone he cares about. He can't even imagine Mishka caring about him. It's ludicrous that that's what Mishka is asking him to believe, now, after all of this -- that is was for his own good, somehow, tangentially. Hansel thinks about saying fuck you and leaving. He thinks about twisting words around the truth serum and finding a way to lie to him. Maybe that would be easier for both of them. He doesn't know how, though; that's always been Mishka's thing, not his. He couldn't even lie convincingly to Goro. Hansel thinks about saying nothing at all. Then he stands, leaving his trident behind in the dirt, and pushes the gate open to drop down in front of Mishka and grab him, hard, in a hug, even though it aches to press him against the recent wound. "Fuck, calm down," he mutters. "We'll kill the fucking dragon, then." Player 1: Mishka shuts his eyes. The mask is still in the dirt, and he steps on it a little, and doesn't really care. His eyes feel hot and sting, and he wraps his arms around Hansel's back. His face feels wet, and dimly, he realizes he in fact crying. I hate you, he wants to say. As a joke, or a defense, or something. But he doesn't. God fucking damn it. He already took the truth serum. It's impossible to actually hate Hansel, no matter which way he cuts it apart or twists it. When he says that-- We'll kill the fucking dragon, then-- it's exactly what Hansel would say. And it's every reason Mishka adores him. "Fuck all of this," he says. "I'm sorry. And I'm sorry I did this to you." And he cuts off there, not sure what to say. He's not used to this. Can't think of what the truth is, here. Takes the half-burnt note, instead, out of his pocket. And shoves it into Hansel's hands. It's dirty and worn, even though it's only been in his pocket a day. Player 2: "Don't know why it takes a fucking murderous dragon and a truth serum for you to fucking apologize," Hansel mumbles against his neck. He pulls away slightly when Mishka pushes the note into his hand, confused, and glances down at it -- crumpled, singed -- but decides it's not that important right now. He crushes it in his hand and pulls Mishka back in for a moment, kissing the top of his head. His actual hair. It's prettier like this than how he always makes it look, Hansel thinks, and the truth serum almost makes him say it. Definitely the truth serum. And he knows he would stay like this forever if he let himself, so he doesn't -- settling back again but leaving a hand on Mishka's shoulder. "All right. First thing's first. How much time's left?" Player 1: Mishka can't look at him. "Two and a half years," he says. Hoarsely. "I think. It was... iffy, before. Never exact. A few months this way, a few months that way." He wants to kiss Hansel. He wants to stand on his toes, wrap his arms around Hansel's back, and kiss him hard on the mouth, the way they used to. Easy, like Hansel belonged to him again. But this is already way more than he could've ever expected, and way more than he deserves. But he aches when Hansel kisses his head, and it's easier to breathe for a second. "I don't actually think Ripley can handle a dragon," he says. "I just... I don't know what else to fucking do, Hansel. I thought about-- I'm trying to become Spymaster so I can become Prince, because, you know, I thought I could use a city to bargain with it-- but I can't imagine how that conversation would go, and..." Don't tell anyone, he wants to say. He'd never told anyone about the cuff before Hansel. And now Hansel knows everything. Player 2: Hansel sighs and rubs at his face. His immediate reaction is relief, but it's followed closely by annoyance. Two and a half years. That's so much fucking time. Mishka would make it sound worse than it is. "Look, we don't need Ripley." He waves the notion off. He thinks about mentioning how she didn't help him when Jonn was in trouble, so there's no need considering her help for this, but he doesn't suppose Mishka was thinking about asking her for help. No, his plan is convoluted political maneuverings. He wonders if his new trident could spear a dragon's eye. Probably. Doesn't seem like that big of a deal. He sighs again. "Let's see if we can solve the problem without selling out the city, all right?" Hansel stands, pulling Mishka with him. He glances down at the mask and bends to snatch it up, too, in the same hand that's still holding the note. He holds it out. "It's gonna rain soon. Let's go inside, you fucking disaster." Player 1: Mishka takes it and doesn't put it back on. Fuck. He's missed the way Hansel looks at him with the mask off. He ties it to his belt instead. It's wet and would be uncomfortable to wear, anyway. He's been with these servants a couple years. Samantha's not going to care what he looks like. Nixie, god bless her, might not even notice. "I will attempt to solve the problem without selling the city to a dragon," he finally says. He swallows back the words I love you. "Thank you," he says, instead. END Category:Text Roleplay